Nightmare
by HyperMint
Summary: Eames and Arthur watched Nolan's 'Dunkirk' and some... disturbing thoughts come to the forefront concerning someone Eames may or may not be related to. (Light slash and platonic relationships.)


Disclaimer: Author does not own 'Dunkirk', 'Inception' or NCIS.

AN: I watched Nolan's 'Dunkirk', which spawned quite a few plotbunnies.

This was one of them.

It played really well with my headcanon about Tony and Eames knowing each other or being related somehow.

Apologies in advance for new nightmares facing any Naval personnel with impending deployments, their families and anyone else getting ready for a cruise. (Sorry.)

* * *

Arthur walked into the bar, brown eyes looking for a familiar figure in the almost dim lighting.

The whole back wall was plate glass window, the night dark beyond his glance toward it.

To the left, the bar was being tended by a few guys who looked like they were old enough to join the military, yet, not quite old enough to be allowed inside the bar they worked in.

There was a dance area near the front that played half familiar songs, but Arthur didn't pay much attention to it because dancing wasn't what he'd come for.

The tables in the rest of the place looked kind of like they were meant to be pushed together in long rows, not segmented into single tables that all looked the same. Booths were pushed against the far right wall, but Arthur zeroed in on the figure sitting at a table facing the back windows.

Tony DiNozzo was a relative of some kind to Eames. Arthur wasn't certain enough to ask and offend, especially since there was the chance that they weren't actually related.

He was fairly certain they weren't ex-lovers, because Eames didn't melt down in panicked worry when it came to his exes, and neither one gave off much more than brotherly affection or the warm regard of old friends.

That wasn't to say that they _weren't_ related, but Arthur still needed to make sure before he said anything.

One day, he would, but that would have to be another time.

"You have to talk to Eames," he started off with as he slid into the seat across from him.

Tony looked up from his bottle of something with an amused smile. "What, no hello? No, 'hey, man, glad to see you didn't end up blown to smithereens thanks to your boss'? No, 'glad you didn't drop off an aircraft carrier and drown'?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he frowned. "You haven't been on a carrier in three years. Long before I knew you existed, by the way."

"Hm," he simply nodded. "Well, it's nice to see you alive and – currently – in one piece. You said I had to talk to Eames, huh? Any particular reason why?"

Ignoring the warm curl in his chest at the casual way the other had carefully phrased his relief – Italians like Tony were notoriously affectionate with anyone connected to someone they claimed as family -, Arthur got down to the reason for this meeting.

"Have you seen the movie ' _Dunkirk_ '?"

"Ah, yes. Actually a very nice movie. Did you know that the tri-colored logo stands for the three places the storyline occurs? The bottom is white for the sand/solid ground, sea blue for the water and sky blue for the dogfights? Incredibly well done by the man responsible for one of my favorite movies. Why? Is this where you admit to having some very steamy fantasies about you and Eames within the movie's storyline? A pilot and a fellow prisoner, perhaps? Or, maybe, a grateful soldier paying his dues to a handsome volunteer boat skipper?"

"The movie, as you are aware," he glared at the playful leer, "documents one version of the actual event. It was a military disaster and many brave men – even some women considering the hospital ships – died as a result. In my opinion, however much of a fuck up it was, the lost souls still deserve recognition and our respect for putting themselves out there in the first place. To do otherwise would be the highest level of disrespect imaginable."

"… and yet I did not hear 'no'."

Not bothering to dignify that with a response – and feeling the tips of his ears burning -, he pushed on. "Look, the reason I wanted you to talk to Eames is because I've been drowned eight times in two weeks and it's because of you."

"I see," he nodded. "Two weeks… what happened two weeks ago? Did you start a new job together? Has it been going on for longer than you think it has?"

"No. We saw the movie two weeks ago. That's when the drowning dreams started."

"Okay. So, you're being drowned."

"And you," he corrected. "The both of us are in the bowels of a large ship and there's an explosion, the ship rocking with the force of an explosion. Then water starts rushing in and you're right in front of me, but I can't get to you with all the other soldiers in the way."

There was no way he didn't remember the unobstructed panic that filled him every time he realized they were taking on water. He was never able to get close to the projection of Tony before they started drowning, not with so many bodies between them and the only exit.

He hated the feeling of helplessness after those damn dreams.

Every time he did, he automatically checked Tony's location – for Eames' peace of mind, of course. Arthur was nothing if not a good boyfriend, making sure his partner's … relative of some sort was doing fine.

And making sure Tony's medical records highlighted the important details when it inevitably came up after he stepped in front of something meant for one of his teammates.

Honestly, he preferred Tony to be a little more like Eames in self-preservation.

"And if I recall," Tony's green eyes narrowed thoughtfully, "there were several such scenes depicted in the movie."

"Yes, and Eames pointed out that you were the first one to come to mind during those scenes. He was even arguing to himself about whether or not you would think of the U-Boats and move closer to the exit so that you had a chance. Couldn't figure out which side won."

"Okay. And that's what makes you think Eames is drowning us. Then, where's he during all this?"

"I have no idea. Doesn't seem like he's on the boat most of the time. He's either in a Spitfire or a train yard."

"Ah," Tony nodded like he was expecting the answer.

Hell, maybe he was.

Arthur could never tell if either Tony or Eames already knew answers before they asked and this was beginning to feel like some kind of interrogation.

"What?" he scowled.

Tony glanced over Arthur's shoulder, then down at his bottle. "Arthur, let me ask you something," he looked up again, holding his gaze. "You approached Eames, right? When you started dating?"

"No, he did. I'm still not entirely sure how he knew I was going to accept."

"He told me about that, actually," Tony let a small smile curl his lips. "And there was something about plane crashes, too."

"Yeah, one of the others on the team, I think. Terrified of planes after 9/11. Got worse after MH370 disappeared."

"Mm. And you and Eames kept finding yourself on these doomed aircraft?"

"Yeah." Strangely enough, the crashes stopped around the time he and Eames finally got together.

"I see…" he flickered a glance back over Arthur's shoulder. "The plane crash thing was because of a teammate after the job you were on finished. Then the whole drowning thing with me was because of Eames, who never actually drowns with me. You know, that's kind of what I don't quite understand. I would think that Eames would be drowning with me instead of you. Makes sense wouldn't it?"

"You would think," Arthur agreed. "At least if Eames was around to watch you drowning in front of him, he would be more upset."

"Why would he be upset?" Tony kept glancing over Arthur's shoulder.

"Because he cares about you," Arthur shrugged. "Why else would he put you in danger and make himself unable to do a damn thing to save you? It's a basic human fear, to know that you have someone you care about put in danger and you're completely and utterly helpless."

"So… Eames drowns me because he cares. And you, obviously, since you were there every time I drown in the dream."

"Exactly. As for Eames, I think I have a theory about that," he'd thought about it, too. "He drowns us while he's safe, because he would feel a sense of failure knowing that we drowned and he could've done something."

"That implies guilt," Tony pointed out. "Guilt that he couldn't save everyone."

"I thought about that, too, but I don't know what he could be feeling guilty about."

"Hm," he nodded, eyes again flicking over Arthur's shoulder. "Well, I had a good long think about the problem and I think I have a better theory."

"And I'm all ears," Arthur invited, leaning forward to show Eames' relative-of-some-sort that he was ready to listen and take it seriously.

"I think that you might like me a little more than you think you do," Tony caught and held his gaze, a slight glitter of amusement in his green eyes. "Well, at least, I think you like me."

"I would've shot you otherwise," Arthur smiled back in what he hoped was a warm manner. From the short time he'd known the Italian, he had to admit to having grown used to the man and his Eames-like regard for personal boundaries.

He did like him, but, "I'm not sure what this has to do with anything."

"Alright. Well," he twisted his mouth a few times as he let his gaze drift back over his shoulder to the window. "How about I ask you a very important question?"

"Sure, if you can talk to Eames and get him to stop drowning me, I'll answer anything you want," and it was a bit sad that he'd rather be buried in another avalanche in comparison.

Tony leaned forward on crossed arms and gave him his undivided attention, as if Arthur had just closed some sort of trap around himself and the victorious investigator was moving in for the kill.

"Arthur," he connected their gazes with a seriousness that had the Point Man waiting in anticipation. "Think very carefully about your answer."

"I'm thinking," he assured. About what, he wasn't sure, but he was ready to think and answer.

Tony sat in complete silence, taking in everything about him. Finally, after a long moment – after a long enough amount of time that Arthur was about to snap at him to hurry up and ask because the curiosity and tension wasn't mixing well -, Tony asked the one thing that stopped him completely:

"How did we get here?"

 _What?_

He blinked, thoughts crashing to a halt because that wasn't what he ever thought Tony would ask him.

"What – what do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. How did you get here? To this bar?"

Arthur frowned, staring down at the table as his thoughts started up again and began to race.

The last thing he remembered was …

Eames.

Okay, Eames.

Eames… he wanted to talk to him about something…

At a bar.

No…

At … at their hotel?

And…

Eames said…

Something about Tony wanting to see him and…

Realization slowly dawned as his gaze tracked back up to see Tony's complete focus directed behind his shoulder.

At the window.

Slowly, somehow knowing exactly what he was about to find, he turned to follow Tony's gaze.

The window had a large crack slowly making its way from one end of the glass to the other.

Water was slowly leaking from the other side and into the bar, the window not enough to hold the slowly building pressure for long.

"Arthur."

He closed his eyes for a long moment and turned back, opening them to see Tony now wearing a uniform.

Like he was.

"Arthur," Tony smiled gently, as if he wasn't sure of Arthur's reaction. "I should probably mention who _isn't_ here for you to pin the blame on."

Arthur just stared at him, watching silently as the window creaked behind them. He breathed as implications began to sink in.

"Yeah," Tony nodded, Arthur watching as he dropped a hand out of sight.

He silently nodded in response, his own hand dropping down and wrapping around the cold grip sitting next to him.

The window behind them finally gave way, water rushing in to the sound of dual gunshots.

* * *

He surfaced with a gasped yell, familiar hands catching his shoulders and a familiar voice with that familiar accent soothing him as another person gasped nearby.

"That's it, Tony," soothing fingers scritched through his short hair as he fought his roiling stomach. "Just breathe. There's a lad."

"How the _fuck_ do you do this?" he managed after being able to swallow down some water, his green eyes meeting grey.

"Very carefully until you get used to it."

"No thanks. You can keep it and leave me out of it."

"Yes, and you're lucky Yusuf managed to find a blend that wouldn't send you into shock or some such. It went well, then?"

"Look over there and tell me," Tony glanced over to the other lounge chair to see Arthur sitting up with his head in his hands. "I think we got to the root of the problem."

He let out a deep sigh as Eames went over to Arthur, watching as Eames crouched down in front of the smaller male.

Dreamshare wasn't for him, Tony decided, leaning back and tossing a glance to the open case lying nearby.

But, damn, the things that were possible.

Even, as it turned out, having something resembling a nightmare in the middle of it somewhere.

He was definitely never watching _Titanic_ again. _Dunkirk_ ; maybe.

Tony had to hand it to Nolan: the man did his first historical-type piece and did it well.

Which did remind him, he really did need to talk to Eames about those 'sinking' scenes before he ended up with similar nightmares after his experience as Agent Afloat.

He'd never identified with any group of real or imagined people more than he did the portrayed characters of _Dunkirk_.

Which, surprisingly enough, was nowhere near as terrifying as _Pearl Harbor_ had been.

Movement caught his attention, Tony looking up to see a rattled Arthur approach before the smaller male immediately clambered onto the chair with him and curled up in his lap without so much as a by-your-leave.

Tony sighed and wrapped his arms around the shaking figure. "I hope you learned something," he told him, swaying them from side to side as much as they could go without ending up on the floor.

"I did," Eames smiled slightly as he stood over them. "Arthur offs the ones he cares about in his dreams. Though, how the devil did you figure it out?"

"You complained about the plane crashes and I just started playing a hunch – something that's been confirmed after you started complaining about Arthur accusing you of drowning him and me."

Eames nodded and blew out a breath. "Well, at least that's been sorted."

"Until you start hearing from somebody that Arthur's been killing them off in his dreams. I advise issuing a PSA."

"Done. Will Arthur be alright?"

"Yeah. I think he's just coming to terms with having had a nightmare and what that means for him."

"Oh?" he raised a brow. "And what's that?"

"He's not really as distant as he thinks himself to be. That takes some getting used to, but he'll get there. Which is more than I can say for my future with Dreamshare."

"Yet, I was actually very impressed that you came up with this idea all on your own. Seems like just yesterday when you were threatening to drop the PASIV into the ocean."

"It _was_ yesterday and the threat still stands."

"After what you and Arthur had just gone through?"

"Arthur's not going to want to go back under for some time. Or me, come to think of it. You only have to face the coming water once and you never forget it."

"Mm. And your next sojourn on a ship?"

"Probably not as bad as the next one Arthur's going to take. With the way your luck's been running, the next drowning will be for real."

They looked down at Arthur, who had fisted a hand in Tony's collar as his face was buried in the Italian's neck.

"I don't think you're going to be leaving his sight anytime soon," Eames smiled at the sight, no doubt planning to sketch the picture they made.

"After that nightmare," Tony scoffed, "I'm not letting _either_ of you out of my sight, either."

The sad part was, it was a nightmare that had come to life for thousands.

And hopefully, not thousands more.

But there was always that possibility.

There would _always_ be that possibility.

Tony settled Arthur more comfortably and hugged him tighter. "You're not getting him back," he told Eames.

"I daresay, I'm not getting _you_ back, either."

"Yeah, but you're sleeping with only one of us on a semi-regular basis. Not counting close calls that send you under my covers and almost get your ass shot."

"Our favorite Italian teddy bear," Eames grinned.

"I better be the only one," Tony scowled.

"Of course, otherwise, someone else would've been drowning with Arthur."

Tony heaved a sigh. "Well, if I'm going to be hanging around, I need to call Abby before she calls out the SEALs and Marines. And I should call someone for vacation time."

"I suppose it's a bit cruel to say you've contracted pneumonia."

"Don't set off multiple panic buttons, damn it," Tony lightly rubbed a hand under Arthur's collar. "If anyone really wants to know… tell them it's a family issue."

"Done," Eames gave him that smile that only he and Arthur received. "I'll call Abigail."

He turned away to do so, Tony the only witness to the small smile on Arthur's face as it pressed against his throat.

"I know you're a one man guy," Tony told him, "but I'm probably going to kiss you somewhere at some point, so don't shoot. Fair warning."

A smile lit his own face as he felt a soft press almost hesitantly against his skin.

It wasn't going to be a quick fix, but they would make it with time.

"We'll be alright as long as we're together," he leaned back against the chair with a small smile. "Come hell or high water."

* * *

(END)

* * *

 **Dedicated: To the Allied troops of WWII, especially the Navy boys.**

 **And to the men and women in today's US Navy. Thank you for your service.**


End file.
